Undressed, Undressed In Your Evening Best
by rayychel infinity
Summary: Kurt is invited to an Anderson family wedding, and both he and Blaine decide that the night is just a little too dull.


**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own _Glee_, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title is from "Coppertone" by The Academy Is...

Warnings for: public sex, barebacking. Y'know, the usual.

Tumblr is here (endofadream)

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The door crashes a little too loudly against the wall when Kurt pushes Blaine against it; they both stumble unsteadily into the bathroom, the slick, hungry sound of their lips sliding together filthily perfect. Blaine presses his face into the curve of Kurt's neck, giggling, and Kurt shushes him, stifling his own giggles as he grabs impatiently at Blaine's suit jacket and kicks the door shut behind them.

"Gotta be quiet," he murmurs, untucking Blaine's shirt as quickly as he can to get at hot skin underneath; he drags his nails over Blaine's taut, heaving abdomen and feels it contract shakily under his touch. Blaine's muted pants and Kurt's own quiet gasps as Blaine sucks at his neck echo in the spacious bathroom of the reception hall they're in, and Kurt sneaks a peek into one of the mirrors, eyes widening as he takes in his flushed cheeks, the way Blaine's tongue darts out to lick over his skin as he sucks a fading mark into Kurt's throat. "I dunno—how long we'll have the place to ourselves."

"Then shut up and fuck me," Blaine whispers as he works his way up to Kurt's jaw, his tongue slick and hot on the shell of Kurt's ear. Kurt can feel the smile spread against his skin, feels the growing weight of Blaine's cock against his leg as he presses close, rubs.

Normally, Kurt loves weddings: the atmosphere, the bond it all brings officially together, the decorations and fabulous wedding dresses and the knowledge that, someday, it'll be him up there. But this is Blaine's family, and Blaine's cousin's wedding, and Kurt knows Blaine's family a little too well after a few years, and happy is the farthest thing from what Kurt is experiencing right now.

Since he'd arrived, arm-in-arm with Blaine, he's spent all day and half the night fielding nasty glares from Blaine's extended family—like when he'd stepped next to one of Blaine's aunts after the toast and meal and commented on her vintage-chic cocktail dress had been given in response a narrow-eyed glare and a huff before he'd been left, alone and blinking in confusion, at the candy bar.

As he backs Blaine into a stall, the door slamming metallically in a way that makes Kurt wince, he almost hopes that someone from Blaine's family will walk in.

He locks the stall door with clumsy, unsteady fingers, grabbing Blaine by his tie and pulling him in. He bites maybe a little too hard on Blaine's lower lip—Blaine jolts, then whimpers—but it doesn't seem to matter if the way Blaine kisses back, sloppy and deep and punctuated with dirty, wanton moans, is any indication.

"For someone who wants to be quiet," Blaine teases, rucking up Kurt's shirt and dragging his nails over the soft skin of Kurt's back, "you sure are doing a crappy job at it."

"Oh, shut up and kiss me," Kurt whispers, tangling his fingers in Blaine's hair and tugging him back in. He takes control of the kiss, pushes forward and forward until Blaine's arched awkwardly over the toilet, his mouth slick and open and completely pliant.

His hand finds Blaine, hot and hard and straining, in the tent of his slacks. When he wraps his fist around it through the fabric and squeezes, Blaine's hand shoots out, slapping at the side of the stall as he groans, tipping his head back as Kurt mouths along his throat. "_God_, Kurt, c'mon, _fuck me_."

"I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news," Kurt says, fingers searching for the slick button of Blaine's slacks, "but with what?" He undoes them, slides down the zipper and slips his hand into Blaine's briefs. "I can't fuck you without lube," he finishes over a loud, desperate moan as he slides his hand up the length of Blaine's cock.

Blaine grabs Kurt's wrist and Kurt looks up, stares into wide, unblinking hazel eyes. Blaine's lips are wet and slick and bitten-red, and the spots of color high up on his cheeks are sexily adorable. He swallows, wets his lips and says, "Okay, don't laugh at me, but…"

He trails off, but he doesn't need to continue: Kurt's own eyes widen, and his lips part as he looks incredulously at Blaine. He stands, stepping back, and Blaine straightens up, situates himself around the toiler bowl. His cock is hanging out of his slacks, swollen and flushed-dark. "Blaine, you didn't."

Blaine flushes darker, smiling sheepishly. "I didn't know how much time we'd have tonight, so I thought that I'd…make it easier for you. And me. I even, uh…" He reaches into the pocket of his slacks, pulls out a tiny, single-serving packet, and Kurt groans.

"Oh my god, you—you really did. You stretched yourself beforehand and you even brought _lube_. To your cousin's wedding!"

"To be fair," Blaine says, stepping forward and looking up in that way from underneath that irresistible curtain of lashes that always makes Kurt's knees weak, "I know how much you love weddings and how…_emotional_ you get." He trails his hand down Kurt's chest, stops just short of the waistband of Kurt's slacks; it's only once Blaine's tongue darts out teasingly to lick his lips that Kurt realizes he's been panting in anticpation.

"God, Blaine, your _family_," Kurt replies, but it's weak and his voice is even thinner, and Blaine just smiles like he knows he's won. His fingers drop just a little lower and slowly undo the zipper of Kurt's slacks, and Kurt gasps when Blaine expertly eases down the waistband of his briefs and slips his cock out through the zipper, tugging gently and pushing back the fabric.

"I don't give a shit about my family," Blaine stresses. His pupils dilate slightly as he wraps his hand around Kurt's cock, works him over with a practiced hand until Kurt's toes are curling in his dress shoes and his back is arching. "I just want my boyfriend's cock and I want it _now_."

"Fuck, okay," Kurt gasps, framing Blaine's face in his hands as he kisses him, says, "Turn around and bend over."

Kurt tugs Blaine's pants down, lets them drop to his ankles once Blaine is gripping onto the back of the toiler. He spaces his legs immediately as wide as he can, dipping his torso down and his ass up and out. Kurt laughs, hoarse and muted, and shakes his head as Blaine looks sideways, gives Kurt a teasing, knowing grin.

Kurt rolls his eyes and slaps Blaine's ass, gently, before spreading his cheeks and exposing the slight slickness and stretch of Blaine's dusky hole. He sucks in a breath, pushes Blaine's cheeks apart wider, and says, "Lube, gimme—now."

Tearing the packet open takes a few seconds, and when Kurt realizes he doesn't have enough to both work Blaine open again and fuck him he holds out three fingers, touches them to Blaine's lips, and commands, "Suck."

His cock throbs at the velvet touch of Blaine's tongue, and he lets himself get lost in the echoing slurp of Blaine's mouth, the tight suction of his lips and the way Blaine moans around his fingers. He wraps a hand around his cock, works himself steadily until he slides his fingers from Blaine's mouth and slips one, then two, into Blaine's hole.

Blaine groans, dropping his head and pushing back. "_God_—feels so good. I've been wanting this all day."

"Slut," Kurt responds fondly, teasingly, as he works in his ring finger, feels Blaine tighten and tense before breathing out and relaxing. "Don't tell me, you've got a kink for doing it in the bathroom at a family function."

Blaine lets out a strained laugh, pushes back onto Kurt's fingers and drops a hand down between his legs and jerks himself a few times before he has to regain his balance. "Maybe. Maybe I just ca—_ah_—an't get enough."

Kurt laughs, slides his fingers free. He coats his cock, pushes back the fabric of his slacks to the base and holds himself as he rubs the slick head of his cock over the dark-skinned divide of Blaine's ass. "I don't have a condom," he warns, sliding the head around Blaine's hole.

"Don't care. Just—just pull out before you come and I'll swallow." Blaine's voice is strained, and he tosses his head back, looks behind with desperate, wild eyes and slack jaw. "Kurt, _please_—put it in me, god, just _put it in_."

Kurt pushes Blaine's shirt and jacket up, presses his palm to the sweat-slick lumbar region of Blaine's back. He slides in, sucking in a breath at the tight heat, and grips onto Blaine's hips as he slowly bottoms out. When he gets there he slouches forward, dropping a kiss to Blaine's shoulder blade as he murmurs, "So fucking tight, baby."

Blaine whines, high and lilting, and pushes back, circling his hips and clenching until Kurt gasps, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Give it to me, baby, _give it to me please please fuck me_—"

Kurt straightens up, doesn't hesitate when he pulls out to the head, until just the crown is buried in Blaine's body, and fucks back in. Blaine's back arches and he moans, loud and needy. "Oh yeah, _fuck_—uh—yeah."

Kurt works up a pace, quick and unrelenting until they're both panting, Blaine grunting as he spaces his legs a little wider and moans. Kurt wants to remind him that they have to be quiet, that it's only a matter of time before someone else walks into the bathroom, but Blaine is so beautiful under him with his cheeks spread and his hole eagerly swallowing up Kurt's cock with each thrust, that he doesn't even care.

"Feel so fucking good," Kurt grunts, digging his nails into Blaine's hips as he fucks harder. "Take me so well, baby. Sound so hot, baby, _god_—" A rushing hot flare of arousal surges down Kurt's spine, leaving him tingling, and his voice is a little more strained as he gasps, "Say my name."

"_Kurt_," Blaine whines, fucking back. "Oh god, oh _god_—"

Blaine's hand suddenly slips on the lever, and the flush of the toilet surprises them both for a few seconds before they begin laughing until the laughs morph into noises, into grunts and gasps and moans and pleas; until Blaine begins fucking back, harder and harder until the bare, reddened skin of his ass mutedly slaps against the smooth fabric of Kurt's slacks, and gasps, "Gonna—gonna come."

Kurt grips onto Blaine's thighs, pulls him back. He's close, too, feels it rushing forward hotter and hotter. He brings his weight forward, fucks Blaine as hard as he can, until Blaine's body is shaking and he's crying out, gasping, over and over, "Fuck me," and, then, "I—I'm gonna—"

He comes before Kurt can stop, pull him away from the edge, and he feels bad for only seconds before Blaine is slipping off his dick and dropping to his knees. He sinks down immediately, cheeks hollowing as he sucks with obscene slurping noises, and Kurt's hand slaps against the side of the stall as he struggles to keep his balance.

Kurt gasps, fingers tightening in what handful of Blaine's hair he can reach, and it's only a few noisy bobs of Blaine's head before he's coming with a muffled shout, his fist pressed over his mouth as his hips jerk minutely forward.

Blaine slides slowly off, tilting his head and wrapping a fist around Kurt's cock as he licks him clean with a broad, soft tongue until Kurt's squirming with oversensitivity and gasping, laughing as he swats at Blaine's shoulder until he stops.

"We really did that," he murmurs when Blaine stands up, wraps his arms around Kurt's waist. Kurt wraps his arms around Blain's neck, smiles giddily and stares at Blaine's sex-flushed face.

Blaine gives him a wide, silly grin and leans in, kissing Kurt in a lethargic, languorous way that conveys everything they aren't saying—and everything that they don't have time to say. When they part Kurt is breathless, tingling all over in a way that does not have to do with an amazing orgasm. He licks his lips, tastes himself bitter from Blaine's tongue, and shivers. It'll never get old, that knowledge.

"We should probably, um, clean everything up," Blaine says, suddenly bashful. He traces his thumb over Kurt's cheek, then down the line of his chin. "Get back before everyone notices, that sort of thing."

Kurt leaves Blaine to cleaning up the toilet lid as he opens the stall door to head over to the mirrors to fix his hair. He takes a few steps out and stops dead, his entire body suddenly feeling like it's been doused with icy water. He's not sure if his heart speeds up or stops altogether; he isn't aware of the sound of Blaine exiting the stall, too, tugging up his pants and redoing them and calling out, "I think if we hurry we can—"

He is, however, aware when Blaine stops speaking as well.

At the sinks, casually washing his hands, is Blaine's grandpa from Blaine's mother's side—at least, he thinks it is, judging by the same exotically tanned skin that Blaine has. Kurt only blinks, unable to move or speak as Blaine's grandpa reaches for the paper towels and slowly dries off his hands. It's only once he's finished, wadded-up towels thrown into the trashcan, that he turns around. There's no anger etched into the weathered lines of his face, and he smiles as he looks at Kurt, and then Blaine, and then at them both.

"Well," he begins in a warm, amused voice, "I have to admit, I thought the reception was rather boring myself. But I sadly wasn't lucky enough to escape it in such an exciting manner." He throws them both a wink, adds, "I won't tell," and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Kurt begins unglued then, and his hands fly to his mouth. He's painfully aware of the fact that he isn't zipper up yet, and that his hair is a wind-tossed bird's nest of sex. He looks back, and Blaine looks just as mortified, if not more so.

"Oh my god," he finally says, weakly. "Oh my _god_, Blaine!"

"I'm never going to be able to show myself out there ever again," Blaine says, just as weak. His face is pale, the bright spots of color gone. His lips are still red and Kurt wants to cry when he sees a drop of come still at the corner of his mouth. "I'm going to have to disown myself."

And, suddenly, despite everything, Kurt begins laughing. He isn't sure why, at first, is certain that it's the humiliation and the mortification and the stress, but, as Blaine eventually catches on and they hold each other, pressed close and still hot and sweaty, that he realizes why: you can never have an adventure without a little risk, and for once, despite the way most of Blaine's family has accepted and treated him, their risk turned out to be a lot nicer and safer than they could have known.

Kurt tugs Blaine in closer, kisses him sound and solid and breathes, "I love you," when he pulls back.

Blaine smiles, wrapping Kurt up in a tight hug, and whispers, "I love you, too."


End file.
